It was the summer of 1969. It was hot out and David drove north on the New York Thruway while listening to news on the radio about the debacle that would be famously known as Woodstock. Authorities were warning people not to pick up hitchhikers. Of course! They might be "hippie druggies."
"What bullshit," he thought.
As if on cue, there was a young man with his thumb out on the side of the road. He had just turned to look after a car that hadn't picked him up, and David's eyes widened as he got a view of tight cut-off jeans encasing a gorgeous young ass, long slender legs, and a narrow torso widening up to broad shoulders.
As the young man turned back to face oncoming traffic, David saw a beautiful face framed by long dark blonde hair and he felt a little thrill in the pit of his stomach. Without thinking, his foot moved to the brake and he managed to pull over and stop in the breakdown lane just beyond the young man, who ran up to peer in the passenger side window as David lowered it.
"Hi! Thanks for stopping," said the young man, and David was momentarily paralyzed with desire as he took in the handsome narrow face and bright blue eyes. He would be happy just to have this gorgeous body sitting next to him for a while, but thoughts of much more pushed themselves into his head. He managed to break out of his daze and ask the lad where he was going.
"Boston," was the reply and David told him to hop in. With no hesitation the young man slid into the seat next to the older man.
As they drove, David told the young man he lived an hour or so up the road and needed to stop at home for a little while, but then would be glad to take him the rest of the way to the Massachusetts city.
Peter was the young man's name, and he regaled David with stories about the famous rock concert he had just left. Few people think about Woodstock as anything but a glamorous gathering, but it was actually a bit of a nightmare for many, with torrential rain, mud, and lack of food and bathrooms, despite the great music.
To make things worse, Peter had gotten separated from his friends, his tent, his supplies and food, and had spent the last two nights sleepless. He had only the clothes he wore and just enough cash to buy a bus ticket from Boston to visit a girlfriend at her parents' farm in New Hampshire. He was exhausted and soon his banter slowed and stopped and his head lolled against the seatback. He was sound asleep within seconds.
David drove on but he couldn't stop glancing to his right to take in the slender, tight body next to him on the seat. The young man's legs had parted wide in sleep. The downy blond hairs looked soft and inviting, and his eyes kept getting drawn to where the slender legs met. There, a bulge was covered by tight denim, and David had to fight the urge to reach over and investigate what lay beneath the worn material.
He could stop his hand from moving, but what he couldn't stop was his own cock growing hard while he imagined Peter's body naked and writhing as he used his hands, lips and tongue to explore it.
He suddenly thought to lean forward and see what he could see where the shorts met the very top of the young man's legs. A thrill shot through him and his own cock grew painfully hard in his pants as he saw that the 18-year old wore no underwear and he could just barely catch a glimpse of the head of a beautiful cut cock.
Now he wanted nothing more in the world than to touch that cock. He called Peter's name. No response. Called it again louder. Still no response. He reached over and gently poked Peter's shoulder. Poked it again harder. Nothing. The young man was out cold, dead to the world.
Casting caution to the wind, David rested his hand on Peter's thigh. Still no response. He stroked lightly up and down the firm flesh and still the young man did not stir. Emboldened, he left his hand at the very top of the long leg closest to him and inched his little finger beneath the denim that covered the central object of his desire.
His finger brushed the head of Peter's cock and he moved it immediately away. Still the young man slept on. He brushed it again and almost came in his pants as he was able to trace the head of that wonderful cock, but then the young man stirred just slightly and David pulled away.
It was at that moment that he hatched his plan to get what he wanted so badly.
* * *
Peter came out of an exhausted sleep into groggy awareness as his shoulder was shaken by the man who had picked him up hitchhiking. He was hungry. He felt dirty; he hadn't showered in days now. His clothes were dirty as well, having barely survived the rain and mud at the concert grounds.
"We're at my home now, Peter," said David in a gentle voice. "I'm going to feed you and help you get clean and get a little rest before we head up to Boston. I think you need it badly." To the extent that he was able to process any thought at all in his foggy brain, Peter couldn't disagree.
He followed the older man into a small but very clean and nicely decorated house in a suburban neighborhood. David had Peter sit at the kitchen table while he cooked a couple of eggs and the younger man came out of his fog enough to find out that David was a male nurse, originally from a small city in Pennsylvania, and was taking a few days off to visit friends in Boston.
The hot food in his stomach started to put Peter back to sleep, but he didn't refuse the offer of a shot of whisky David offered to help him relax. The first shot was followed by a second, and the glow in the young man's stomach blossomed pleasurably as David cleaned up in the kitchen. He did feel relaxed, almost as if he was pleasantly floating with the combination of food and liquor entering his bloodstream, and the fatigue.
"Let's get you cleaned up now," said David as he took Peter's arm and led him up the stairs to a modern looking bathroom with a large glass enclosed shower. David ran the shower, letting it get hot. He told Peter to put his clothes on the counter and he'd come back in and run them through a quick wash and dry while Peter was getting clean, and he left the bathroom.
Peter climbed into the shower and washed his hair, hearing David come in and get his clothes and leave again. With his eyes closed he couldn't see the older man linger for a moment, hungrily drinking in what he could see of the naked body on the other side of the foggy glass; that beautiful ass, the almost hairless chest, and the thatch of hair surrounding the young man's cock and balls.
With his hair clean, Peter now stood groggily in the shower, enjoying the feel of hot water run over him. As if in a dream he heard the shower door open and became aware of David standing behind him. Before he could protest the presence of another man in the same shower, he felt a hand gently rest on his shoulder and heard a low soothing voice in his ear.
"Don't worry," said the voice, "I told you I'm a nurse and I've done this hundreds of times with my patients. I'm going to help you get clean, that's all."
"Nothing I haven't done before," David lied, as his plan was to try and do much more than he'd ever done in a hospital setting. "Just relax and I'll help you. I'm a professional and know just what to do."
David pointed the shower head away from the young man's body and soaped up his hands. He massaged the lad's back and shoulders as his soapy hands slipped over the soft skin, stopping for more soap as he lifted Peter's arm and washed his pit, then down to his hands and back up, then the other arm, reveling in the feel of the firm muscles beneath his fingers.
With his head down and his eyes closed, Peter couldn't help but enjoy the sensations the older man's hands were eliciting, despite his discomfort at being naked in the shower with another guy touching him. This wasn't right, but it felt so good, and he was so exhausted. He pushed away the protests his brain tried to make him verbalize.
Despite the great music he'd taken in, the little bit of food and the pot people had shared with him from time to time, the past few days had been filled with discomfort and some worry. He'd lost his friends and everything he'd brought with him to camp with. He'd stepped on a lit cigarette with his bare foot. He'd lain in mud and then rinsed off in a murky pond. He'd been unable to find a comfortable place to sleep, and he'd clung to the trunk lid of a car to get out of there when he'd finally decided to leave.